


A Different Call

by JustATinyTurtle



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Excessive Coffee Drinking, clint can’t be serious, liho the cat because I couldn’t resist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 04:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustATinyTurtle/pseuds/JustATinyTurtle
Summary: “Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call.”The story of how Clint goes and makes a recruit out of Natalia Romanova.





	A Different Call

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know what this is, I just wanted to write it??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯   
> Maybe it’ll be a series eventually, we’ll see...  
> Also I added Liho the cat because of reasons

“Just a reminder before you do anything stupid, the Black Widow could kill you in about, like, ten seconds.”

Clint rolled his eyes at his handler’s voice coming through his comm. “Two things: I’m always doing something stupid, and I could kill her in ten seconds, too.” Coulson choked back a laugh and Clint grinned humorlessly. “Okay, I’m turning you off now, bye.”

Clint ignored his handler’s protests as he pulled his comm from his way and placed it in his pocket. He took a sip of his now room-temperature coffee and watched the people of Moscow brush past him. 

This was always his favorite part of the job - traveling the world and getting to watch people go about their normal lives, completely and blissfully unaware of why he might be there. 

There was a woman in her mid-thirties with bags under her eyes and she was clutching a large cup of coffee like her life depended on it. Clint took notice of the way she was dressed and the way she acted and decided she was probably some sort of soccer mom named Susan, or the Russian equivalent of a suburban mom name. 

Next, a man passed him. He was shorter than average, but not by too much. He had scraggly hair and glasses with a thin wire frame. Clint decided that he was probably a teacher named Michael, the quiet teacher who you couldn’t picture hurting a fly but was almost definitely cheating on his wife. 

Then, a woman passed by him. She was just slightly shorter than he was and had vibrant red hair. Bingo. 

Clint stood up from the bench he was sitting on and walked over to the nearest trash can to get rid of his empty coffee cup. He pulled his jacket tighter around his body and crossed his arms as he began to follow the woman. 

Clint pulled his camera out and began to take pictures of the city. A tourist was always the perfect cover. He watched as the woman effortlessly wove through the sea of people and was silently amazed. 

The woman ducked in to an alley and Clint followed. He hid behind a dumpster and grabbed on to the ladder of a fire escape. He made his way up the ladder. He saw better from up high. 

A big, tough-looking man met the woman in the alley and the pair exchanged words. Clint couldn’t tell what they were saying but it looked to be some sort of business deal, and the woman wasn’t too pleased. He knew enough Russian to figure out that the words she began to shout weren’t all too friendly. 

The man finally seemed to have gotten what he came for and he turned to leave. Clint chuckled as the woman flipped the man her middle finger on each hand as his back was turned. 

When she was alone in the alley, Clint fired a warning shot. 

“I knew you were following me,” she spoke in Russian as Clint dropped down from his perch. She reached for her gun.

“Sure, that’s what we all say when someone gets the drop on us,” Clint replied, also in Russian. 

“That’s what you say, maybe.”

“No one ever gets the drop on me,” Clint smirked. 

“I thought that was what we all said,” the woman replied, giving a small chuckle as she threw his words back at him. 

Clint gave her a grim grin and raised his bow at her. “I noticed you don’t seem to like your job too much.” 

She shrugged nonchalantly both at the accusation and the bow aimed at her face. “It pays the bills.”

“You know, I could offer an alternative,” Clint suggested. He could practically hear his shoulder angel, who sounded suspiciously like Coulson, yelling at him. 

“What? Work for you?” 

“You have a special skill set,” Clint started, “and we’re probably nicer than the people you work for now.”

“A special skill set, that’s a pretty nice way of saying assassin.”

Clint shrugged.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Look, are you going to kill me or not?”

“Depends. Want to come work with us?”

“Obviously not.” She then ducked behind a dumpster as Clint let an arrow fly right past her. She ran out of the alley and around a corner. By the time Clint caught up, she had already disappeared.

• • •

“I take it the mission went smoothly by your lack of injuries,” Coulson noted as Clint called him from his motel room later that day. “That surprises me. I thought she would’ve put up more of a fight, if her reputation is anything to go off of.” 

“Actually about that,” Clint said as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“What did you do?” Coulson hung his head, sighing.

“Look at it this way, at least it’s not like that Paris mission last month,” Clint offered. 

“I thought I told you to never speak about that mission again.”

“It’s not like I meant to get the ambassador rip-roaring drunk, it just happened! And the bird wasn’t my fault. Or my idea, I might add,” glaring pointedly at Coulson. “Anyway, this isn’t like that. I can still fix this.” 

“Clint, just tell me what happened,” Coulson sighed, resigned. 

“She got away. Just give me two more days and I can take her down,” Clint bargained. 

Coulson nodded. “Two days.” He then hung up without waiting for an acknowledgment or goodbye. 

• • •

Clint pulled on his tie, loosening it around his neck. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back to try and make it look presentable. He wove through the crowd of partygoers with a certain kind of expertise and walked up to the bar. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk in to mine.”

The woman from the day before rolled her eyes. “I was here first, so I don’t know if the quote really applies.”

“Oh,” Clint feigned surprise, “I didn’t see you there. I actually just say that every time I walk up to a bar at a fancy Russian party.”

“Let me guess, American?” She asked, squinting her eyes as she seemed to analyze him. 

“Man, is my accent that bad?” Clint asked as he slipped back to his native tongue. 

“Not too bad,” she replied, following suit and switching to English, “I’m just really good at my job.”

“Kind of why I was sent here. My boss thinks you’re too good. Apparently you’ve taken down too many targets and you need to be stopped.” She shrugged as he picked up a champagne flute and took a sip from it. “Your English is impressive, by the way, not even a hint of your accent, Natalia Romanova.”

Her gaze darkened. “How do you know my name?”

“Well,” he adjusted his cufflinks, “I don’t know how you guys do it, but at SHIELD, we actually do our research.”

“Why are you here?” She changed the subject as she started to walk away from him. Strange American spy following her or not, she still had a mission to accomplish. “And don’t say it’s because you were sent to kill me. You haven’t even tried to do that. So either you have ulterior motives or you’re just really bad at your job.” She slipped past the guards with incredible ease and headed towards the back room, heels clicking on the floor.

Clint followed along, unfazed by her actions. “I want to recruit you. You’re good at what you do and you could do some real good with the right people.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to get me to work for you, it won’t happen.” 

“Well, never say never, right?”

“Leave me alone,” she commanded in a threatening tone. She pulled back an electrical panel and pulled a USB from inside her black dress. She plugged in the USB and punched in the code. Everything went black.

• • •

Natalia squeezed her damp hair with a towel and then set her towel back on its hook. She ran a brush through her hair and then tied it up into a bun on top of her head. She exited her bathroom and her small black cat came up to her and walked through her legs. Liho had previously been a stray who hung out near her apartment building but Natalia kept feeding the cat until it was practically living with her. She figured she might as well make it official, she had a soft spot for strays anyway.

She turned off her coffee pot and poured herself a cup. She sighed as the warm liquid made its way down her throat. It may be rare, and it may not last for long, but right now, she was relaxed. Calm. At peace. 

The mission earlier that night had gone off without a hitch.

Well, almost without a hitch. 

Her American tail had somehow followed her to that party. 

Was she slipping? How had he been able to find her so easily? 

She sat down at her desk and pulled out her computer. It was untraceable, of course. You couldn’t exactly be in her line of work if the government or your employers were able to easily track your online movements. 

Liho climbed on to her lap and she stroked the cat’s soft, shiny fur. 

Natalia did a search on SHIELD to see if she could figure out why this man was following her. 

Besides the obvious. 

She knew he was sent to kill her.

It didn’t surprise her. She had no shortage of enemies and a body count higher than all of her co-workers. If you could call them that. She wasn’t really ever a team player. 

She finally found a picture of her mystery man. 

Clinton Francis Barton.

Bingo.

• • •

Natalia sipped on her coffee and read the daily newspaper as she sat in a coffee shop in the corner chair by the window. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Natalia closed her eyes and counted to three. “Stop following me,” she warned.

“Who says I’m following you?” Clint challenged as he sat down in the seat across from her. “How do I know you’re not really following me?”

“Is it your mission to make your entire life a comedy?” She wondered incredulously. 

“Well, my entire life is a joke,” he shrugged. She didn’t laugh. Not even as much as a smile. “Tough crowd.” Clint paused to take a sip of his coffee. Well, gulp, more like. “Have you thought more about my offer? I hear the third time’s a charm and I was sent to kill you, so depending on my boss, there may not be a fourth.” 

“Why is this so important to you, Clinton?” She was so tired of not having all of the answers. 

“Oh, you know my name,” Clint was mildly impressed. 

“I’ve been known to dabble in hacking. I do my research. Why is this important to you?”

Clint sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair, “because you remind me of me. Lost and willing to kill for the highest bidder. If I can save other people from that, I will.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” she argued weakly, though her tough facade didn’t crack. 

“Oh, I fully believe you’re capable of saving yourself. I’m just offering you an out,” he raised his hands in mock surrender. 

She eyed him warily and then finally stood up. She tossed her empty cup in the trash. “I suppose I’ll see you around,” she threw over her shoulder.

• • •

Dozens of pictures scattered across the desk. They were all of her and Clint. Natalia looked up and faced her handler.

“Some of our sources are telling us that this man is most likely a SHIELD agent.”

She chose not to taunt the Red Room about how she was better at research than they were, and knew for a fact that he was a SHIELD agent. She would always say that it was because she knew better than to taunt the people who had such a strong hold over her life. Clint would say that it was because she was protecting him, even then. 

“Why do our associates have photos of the two of you together? On more than one occasion, I might add.”

“He’s been following me,” she tried the truth, “I haven’t shaken him yet. He seems harmless.”

“Don’t lie to me, Natalia. I made you what you are today and yet you think you can keep things from me?” He dropped his voice to a low tone. “You’ve been slipping lately. I’m not the only one who has noticed. You’ve been arguing with us too much, fighting back. You should know more than most where that will get you,” he threatened. 

Natalia flinched at the un-subtle mention of brainwashing again. She would rather die than have her brain picked apart by those monsters, little by little. 

Making up her mind, she pulled out her gun and shot her handler. He was quick to dodge, but not quick enough. The bullet hit him in the shoulder. It wasn’t a fatal hit, but it was a painful one.

He seemed to call her every unsavory name he could think of as he pressed the ‘panic’ button in his desk, calling for reinforcements. 

Natalia fired another shot and this time the bullet hit its intended target. The man fell to the ground and blood pooled around him. 

She stared at the body in shock. She had wanted to be rid of him ever since she was a little girl and now she was. She was free of him. 

But not free of the Red Room, she was reminded as ten soldiers burst in to the room. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and fired the rest of her bullets, taking out four men. 

She ducked behind the desk as a shower of bullets suddenly flew through the air.

All of the sudden, an air vent behind the six soldiers popped open and Clint dropped down silently. Natalia couldn’t decide whether to laugh in relief or cry in frustration at his appearance. Of course he was still following her. Clint drew back his bow and let two arrows fly, leaving only four men left.

This, of course, caught the attention of the other soldiers who turned their focus towards Clint. They fired round after round at him, but he was able to duck and dodge all of the bullets. Well, almost all of them. One stray bullet lodged itself in his leg and he fell to the floor.

Natalia picked up one of the dead soldier’s gun and fired at the other soldiers, killing them all. She ran over to Clint, who was now lying unconscious due to hitting his head when he fell. She rolled her eyes and did her best to get him out of the building. 

They ended up at her apartment building. She struggled a little bit with getting him in to the elevator and there was no shortage of strange looks from her nice elderly neighbor who knew nothing about her line of work. 

“My boyfriend is very drunk,” she tried to explain. It didn’t seem to convince the old woman, but she didn’t ask any questions.

She brought Clint inside her apartment and laid him down on her bed. She grabbed his communicator from his belt and typed out a message to his handler.

[It’s done.]

[Meet me at the motel.]

Clint mumbled something before opening his eyes. “Where am I?”

“At my place,” she explained, tossing his communicator back at him. 

Having just woken up, his reflexes weren’t on parr with his usual abilities and it hit him in the face. “Ow. Don’t hit a person in the head if they’ve just gotten a concussion.”

“I contacted your handler. He told us to meet him at the motel. I assume you know which one he’s talking about.”

“Us?” Clint asked, a little slow on the uptake. 

“Well, you did make my employers hate me. I believe you also helped me kill a few of them. I can’t really go back there now and my skills aren’t marketable in very many places.” She shrugged as she held Liho close to her. 

“I’m more of a dog person,” Clint gestures to the cat. 

“Oh, then never mind, I can’t come with you,” she replied seriously, though Clint knew she was teasing. 

He chuckled before returning to seriousness. “I can’t promise you that it will be easy in the beginning.”

“When is it ever easy?”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed. 

• • •

Coulson stuck the key that the motel clerk had given him in to the keyhole. He turned the cold metal handle and pushed the door open. 

Clint was lying on the bed, bandages around his leg. One of his hands was holding ice to his head and the other was holding a coffee pot that he was drinking straight out of. 

Sitting next to Clint was someone that Coulson hadn’t been expecting, nor would he ever have suspected in a million years. Natalia Alianova Romanova. The Black Widow. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a small black cat in her lap and a bottle of vodka in her hand. 

They both looked over at him. 

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop a headache that he knew would be coming any minute. “What the hell am I seeing?”

“I got us a new recruit,” Clint said cheerfully as he gestured towards Natalia.

“How did y- you can’t just pick up strays!” He chastised Clint. He threw a semi-apologetic glance at Natasha, sorry for talking about her like she wasn’t in the room, but also not that sorry because she was the target. She just shrugged. 

“Isn’t that what you did to me?” Clint challenged, raising an eyebrow, knowing he had already won.

Coulson paused as he thought over the repercussions in his head. He sighed and ran and hand over his face. “The paperwork for this is going to be hell.”

Natalia grinned.


End file.
